Rain, Rain, Go Away
by Aemilia Rose
Summary: A young Samwise Gamgee is lost and sad when something happens to someone close to him. A look at how Sam may have developed his remarkable resiliency. Complete.
1. Raining Tears

Hello everyone! This is a quick little chapter of a new story I'm going to write about our favorite little hobbit Samwise Gamgee. I'm not sure how I came up with the idea for this story. Of course, with stories about Sam, I suppose my heart is the one that writes. *Puts hand over her heart and gets a far away look in her eyes*  
  
Okay. For those of you who are following His Elanor, I apologize for writing this instead of that. *Gets a sheepish look in her eye* When the plot bunny bites, you have to follow its orders. I'll try to get the next chapter of His Elanor up soon, but with school starting an all, I'm not quite sure yet when I'm going to find the time to write besides Saturday mornings.  
  
Alright! On with the story! Enjoy!  
  
****************************************************  
  
Rain.  
  
Rain.  
  
Go away.  
  
Come again some other day.  
  
"Go away." Whimpered a forlorn Samwise Gamgee, who lay huddled behind the bushes in the garden. Raindrops splashed against his cheeks and streamed down, becoming indistinguishable from the bitter tears that fell in like manner. He was getting soaked, but he didn't care. There was no way he was going back inside Bagshot Row. Not a chance. He would rather stay hidden back here behind the bushes and catch his death in the cold rain.  
  
"Why can't the rain go away?" Whispered the little hobbit. It was when the rain came, that the trouble started. If only the rain went away, maybe everything would be all right. It would all be okay.  
  
Rain was only tears. Tears from the sky. The sky that saw everything, and cried for the sorrows that were laid beneath it.  
  
Why did it cry now?  
  
"There's no reason for you to cry now!" Sam yelled suddenly, lifting his face to the sky. "She's not gone! She will never be! She'll be okay!" His expression became angry. "It was all because of you that she's dying in the first place! All because of you and your tears! If you hadn't started your crying while she was out there, my Momma would be just fine!" Another tear slid down his cheek. "It's all your fault. You made her sick, and now she's gonna die." He sobbed brokenly.  
  
Exhausted, he finally drifted into sleep. In his dream, he looked back to a day only a couple months ago. His mother was tucking him into bed.  
  
"Goodnight Samwise."  
  
"'Night Momma."  
  
He seemed to be already asleep, but when she leaned down to kiss him goodnight, he asked her hesitantly,  
  
"Momma? Hamson says that I'm almost too big to be tucked in. Is that true?"  
  
She smiled and brushed back the curls from his forehead. "Of course not sweetie. You're my little boy. You'll never be too big." She drew his quilt up to his chest.  
  
"Really?" He whispered.  
  
"Of course, my little Samwise." She looked down at him, and saw that his eyes were closed. She leaned down and kissed her son on the forehead. Even though she knew he probably couldn't hear her, she added softly,  
  
"And I'll always love you."  
  
Still sitting under the bushes in the garden, and now soaking wet, little Samwise murmured in his sleep, "I'll always love you too Momma."  
  
TBC 


	2. Where is Momma?

Thank you everyone for the kind reviews! This means so much to me!  
  
MBradford: Thank you very much for your kind words! I'm really excited that you came to read my story! I'm sorry about your parent though.  
  
Shirebound: *gapes unbelievingly* Did I just get a review from you?! Oh wow! I admire you so much! Thank you thank you thank you for reviewing my story!  
  
This chapter doesn't move the plot along any, but I felt it was necessary because it gives a little more background.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
******************************************************  
  
"Momma! Where are you!" Little Samwise Gamgee wandered the strangely quiet and empty Bagshot Row, his blanket clutched in his arm. "You need to tuck me in!"  
  
His older brother Hamson appeared around the corner. Kneeling down, he put an arm around Sam's shoulders. "Momma isn't back from the market yet, Sam." He said in a strangely tight voice. "But don't worry. She'll be home soon."  
  
"Hamson!" Sam exclaimed. "Momma went to the market hours ago!"  
  
The older brother nodded somberly. "I know, Sam." He sighed really deeply. "Now lets get you to bed Sam. Our sisters are already sleeping. It's really late."  
  
"No!" Sam pouted. "I want Momma to tuck me in!"  
  
"But . . ."  
  
"Please?" Sam whimpered, his brown eyes wide and earnest. "I wanna stay up 'til Momma gets home!"  
  
Biting his lip, Hamson reluctantly nodded.  
  
Hamson took Sam into the living room and sat him down on the couch. Sam's head drooped a little, and then catching himself, he rubbed his eyes furiously to stay awake. Looked out the window, he gasped.  
  
"Ham!" His mouth dropped open. "It's raining really hard!"  
  
To Sam's bewilderment, his brother reached down and took his hand, squeezing it gently. The last time anyone did that, Sam's grandmother had died. The Gaffer had taken Sam's hand in much the same way . . .  
  
"Ham?" Sam whispered. "Where's Pa? And Halfast?"  
  
There was a long pause before Hamson answered. "They're out looking for Momma."  
  
Sam turned worried eyes to his brother. "Why does she need looking for? Is she lost?"  
  
Ham shook his head. "I hope not Sam."  
  
At that moment, there was a sound at the door. Before Sam could even react, Hamson burst toward the door, leaving his younger brother behind.  
  
"Ham!" Sam called. "Wait! What is it?"  
  
Hamson did not answer. Instead, he quickly turned the doorknob, and threw open the door, admitting Halfast and the Gaffer, who both appeared very tired and dripping wet. Between them, they supported a limp and sodden Bell Gamgee.  
  
"What happened?!" Gasped Hamson, moving forward to help carry their mother.  
  
The Gaffer wiped some of the rainwater from his face. "We think she slipped on the wet road. Her ankle looks pretty bad. I don't think she could walk." He shook his head sadly. "She's been lying on the wet ground in the rain for hours."  
  
"Momma!" A tiny voice shrieked. Everyone turned down to see tiny Sam, pulling at his mother's feverish hand. "Momma! Wake up!"  
  
"Ham!" The Gaffer bellowed. "Why is Sam here?"  
  
"He wanted to stay up until . . ."  
  
"Ham!" The gaffer ordered. "He is too young to see his mother like this! Get him to bed! Halfast! Go get a healer. And quickly!"  
  
Halfast nodded and rushed back out the door. Hamson, on the other hand, reached down to take Sam's shoulders, and carefully began to steer him away. "Come on Sam. Let's go."  
  
"Ham!" He cried. "Momma is okay, right? Why is she so still?"  
  
Seeing his father's pointed stare, Hamson took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Sam," He whispered and then he lifted Sam, restraining his brother's flying limbs as best he could.  
  
"No!" Sam screamed. "Momma!"  
  
******************************************************  
  
Samwise woke himself up from the dream with a pained cry. It took a moment for him to notice that he was still under the bushes in the garden. He sneezed, and then wrapped his arms around his shivering body.  
  
He whimpered softly. "Momma . . ."  
  
TBC 


	3. Friend or Further Pain

Hello everyone! I'm sorry I am updating a bit slower these days, but school is really tough this year, and I find myself nearly cracking from the pressure. The only times I find myself writing, are on Saturday mornings. Sometimes.  
  
But today, I am really happy! Maybe I can find more time to write! Hurricane Isabel has come to visit, and even though we are far enough inland for it to not be too bad, people where I live easily get paranoid, so school is closed! Yay!  
  
Arwen Baggins: I'm sorry! I know I know. This story is really sad! But don't worry. Sam will get some comfort eventually. I could not bear it if he didn't! believe me, I'm sobbing too! *sobs*  
  
Loveofthering: I know! *sniff* I can't believe I am writing something so sad about my beloved Sam! But the plot bunny bit, so I really have no choice.  
  
Mint Sauce: *sobs hysterically with Minty*  
  
Lady of Ithilien: Wah! Everyone is crying! Including me! *cries* Thank you very much for your kind comments, and don't worry! Like I told Arwen Baggins, Sam will get some comfort eventually!  
  
Herculeha: Yes, this is a multi chapter fic. And right now, I have no idea how long it will end up. The muse isn't letting me in on the plan. For all I know, it could be five chapters, or it could be fifteen. *sigh* I'll let you know if the muse tells me.  
  
Okay. On with the story! Enjoy! (If you can bear seeing our dear sweet Sam suffer so!)  
  
************************************************  
  
Frodo Baggins, the hood of his cloak pulled over his head in a futile attempt to block out the rain, hurried out of Bag End. His eyes were cast to the ground, scanning frantically across the tufts of grass and tree roots peeking up from the muddy earth. Circling each tree twice in this manner, he cursed softly, but that curse was cut short as he thought of what his uncle might say if he heard such language from his favorite nephew.  
  
'Get a hold of yourself, Frodo!' He thought to himself. 'Don't you have enough reason to anger Uncle Bilbo?'  
  
He continued on towards Bag End's gardens, an excited sound elicited itself from his throat at the sight of a small object lying in the grass by the bushes. In a few quick strides, he reached the object, looking down at the wet and grimy book. His previous cries of joy quickly melted into groans as he picked up the filthy book. Several soggy pages fell out limply. 'Well,' He thought grimly. 'Uncle Bilbo won't let me borrow any books from his study anymore.'  
  
Suddenly, Frodo froze as he thought he heard a moan floating on the air. He shook it off, believing it to just be the wind. Blustery winds on a rainy day could sometimes make you think you heard a sound that wasn't there. He began to walk back to Bag End, when he heard the moan again. This time, he was sure it wasn't the wind.  
  
Following his ears, he discerned that the soft sounds coming from the bushes in Bag End's garden. Wondering if there might be a wounded animal hiding back there, Frodo crept forward silently, not wanting to scare it away. Carefully, he reached up and pulled the dripping leaves aside.  
  
"Sam!" He exclaimed suddenly, rushing forward to where Sam lay curled up, his knees hugged to his chest. Frodo saw that he was soaking wet and shivering.  
  
"Mr. F-frodo!" He stuttered through his chills. He tried to say more, but couldn't as he suddenly started trembling more violently.  
  
"Oh, Sam, what are you doing out here?" Frodo asked exasperatedly. He knew Sam could be stubborn sometimes, but he wouldn't expect Sam to run out on a rainy day. Frodo sighed, reaching out to Sam. "Come on, Sam," He said finally. "Let's get you home."  
  
"NO!" Sam cried, so forcefully that it startled Frodo to the point where he fell back on his rear end. "I'm not going back home!" Sam continued, his shrill voice cutting through the air. "No, no, no . . ."  
  
Quivering sobs now added to his small shaking body. Although Frodo could not begin to guess what may be going on inside his small friend's head at the moment, he slowly pulled him into an embrace. Hugging the shuddering young hobbit close to him, Frodo whispered in his ear, "Okay, Sam. If you don't want to go to Bagshot Row right away, I won't make you."  
  
"T-thank you Mr. . ." Sam's words were cut off with an explosive sneeze.  
  
Frodo shook his head slighty in pity. "But we do need to get indoors." He stated firmly. "How about I just take you up to Bag End with me? Bilbo and can get you warm and dry."  
  
"O-okay." Whimpered Sam.  
  
"Alright then!" Frodo said, standing up and lending a hand to Sam to help him do the same. "Come one Sam! We wouldn't want you catching your death out here in the rain!"  
  
So intent on getting his small friend indoors, Frodo was oblivious to the pain that developed in Sam's eyes at that last statement.  
  
TBC 


	4. Comfort That Will Not Reach the Heart

Wow. I am so sorry this took so long to post. (Blame it on my teachers at school)  
  
By the way, has anyone else seen the incredible ROTK trailer on theonering.net? I had a friend over when we found it, and after waiting nearly twenty minutes for it to load, we got to watch it. It is so cool! December 17th just can't come soon enough!  
  
Wow! I got a lot of reviews this time! Thank you all so very very very much! I feel so loved!  
  
Herculeha: Thank you your kind words, and your concern about the hurricane. Turns out, it was worse than I predicted, and our power was out for a couple days, leading to two most unfortunate events: I couldn't get on ff.net, and my chocolate ice cream in the freezer melted.  
  
Shirebound: Thank you so very much for your kind words! Yes, poor Sam, and what a sadness indeed! But there will be comfort before the end. (thank goodness)  
  
Irish Flying Fish: Interesting name. (I love it!) Your kind review means so much to me! Thank you!  
  
Fireblade K'Chona: Thank you! :0)  
  
Loveofthering: I love your little rhyme thing! "All work and no play makes the muse go away." And away my muse did go this past week. :0(  
  
Kit5: Yes, Sam's questioning his brother brought tears to my eyes too. You have no idea how hard it is to write this about my poor Sam!  
  
FrodoBaggins87: I'm adding more!  
  
Mint Sauce: Yes, Frodo being a good friend plays a major part in this story.  
  
Lady - Willowish: Thank you for your kind words. I'm continuing! Believe me, if I left a story hanging for too long, I'd go nuts.  
  
Lemondrop: Well, don't worry. I wouldn't get Sam too sick. But there will be blankets and tea in this chapter! I agree; the tragedy of this makes me want to cry too, and I wonder if I'll have the guts to pull it off without smoothing over the most tragic parts.  
  
Usagi-cha: I'm glad you like it! Thank you!  
  
By the way, for those of you who are following His Elanor, the final chapter to that should be posted sometime soon.  
  
Wow. Extremely long author's note. Ah, well, on with the story! (I'm not sure if I can end these notes with "enjoy" anymore. More like "get ready to cry for poor Sam.")  
  
*****************************************************  
  
Honey, or butter?  
  
Which is sweeter? Which tastes better?  
  
Bilbo Baggins, holding a jar in each hand, stood facing a tray of bread rolls on the table. He was almost as still as stone, for he was faced with a very tough decision.  
  
Would honey, or butter taste best on these rolls?  
  
Butter was most definitely the more traditional thing for hobbits to put on their bread. Added to almost every dinner of almost every hobbit, was "bread and butter." So, Bilbo mused, why not just use butter? It was what everyone else always used.  
  
"Hmph." Bilbo mumbled. "They don't call me Mad Baggins for nothing." He then proceeded to open the honey jar. Carefully, he got ready to smooth the honey over the bread ever so deftly. Preparing food was a delicate process after all.  
  
He was interrupted by the sound of Bag End's door bursting open and slamming shut.  
  
"Frodo, my lad!" He called out the kitchen door. "What is the big rush?" Bilbo shook his head, amused. That boy could get so excited some times.  
  
His chuckles were cut short at the view of Frodo leading a very sodden and sorry Samwise into the kitchen."  
  
"Frodo!" Bilbo exclaimed, dropping down the knife he was using to spread the honey. "Sam! What on earth!"  
  
"I found him behind the bushes on the side of Bag End." Frodo explained breathlessly. "I couldn't convince him to let me take him home, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I brought him here."  
  
"Well, of course I don't mind!" Bilbo sighed, turning to Sam's sad and wet face. Had he looked closer, he would have been able to tell that some of the moisture was not rainwater, but tears. "What have you gotten yourself worked up about this time, Sam?"  
  
Sam's lower lip quivered as he replied. "I'm s-s-sorry Mr. B-bilbo!" He broke off with a sneeze. "B-but I couldn't g-go back h-home. I . . ."  
  
Sam was about to say more, but Bilbo cut him, laying a hand on his shoulder and steering him out of the room. "Shh." He hushed Sam gently. "We'll talk about it later, but now lets just get you dried off."  
  
*******************************************************  
  
A few minutes later, Sam sat curled up on a soft chair, snuggled in blankets, with nothing worse than a sniffle. Bilbo brought him some hot tea, and Sam sipped it slowly, all the while telling Bilbo and Frodo that they really didn't need to go to the trouble, and Bilbo and Frodo all the while telling him that they did. Since Sam could obviously not wear his soaking wet clothes, Frodo had lent him some of his old clothes, and he couldn't help but notice how comical little Sam looked in the older lad's larger clothing.  
  
Bilbo, on the other hand, noticed something entirely different. For the first time, he saw the telltale redness around Sam's eyes that spoke of a long time of crying.  
  
"Are you comfortable now, Sam?" Frodo asked, sitting down beside his friend.  
  
"Yes," Sam answered softly. "Thank you Mr Frodo, Mr. Bilbo."  
  
"I'm glad." Said Bilbo. "Seeing Frodo dragging you in here soaking wet worried me greatly, and I'm sure Frodo was worried as well." Frodo nodded his agreement.  
  
"I'm sorry." Sam apologized. "But I couldn't go home."  
  
"Alright, Sam." Bilbo said firmly but kindly. He sat down opposite of the small lad. "I would like you to explain why you are so vehement about not going back to Bagshot Row."  
  
Sam's eyes were wide. "Mr. Bilbo? What does ve-vehemont mean?" He stumbled over the word.  
  
Bilbo mentally kicked himself. He had forgotten that he was speaking with a small child. Sam could be like that sometimes. He almost made you feel like you were talking to another adult. Come to think of it, that was a lot like Frodo when he was younger as well.  
  
"Well," Bilbo told Sam. "What I mean, is I want to know why you don't want to go back home."  
  
Sam's eyes began to tear up, and for a moment, Bilbo wondered if he had done right in asking the question. "Mr. Bilbo . . ." Sam whispered. "It's my Momma."  
  
TBC 


	5. Hope For Good News

I am so sorry everyone! This is taking me forever to post, and for that I apologize. School has been dominating my life lately. But hopefully, updates should come more often on this story now, that I have finished His Elanor. I had been alternating updates that story and this one while they were both in progress, but now I have only this one to work on. Well, for now that is. Who knows how long that will last? *stares nervously at the rabid plot bunnies waiting in ambush*  
  
Shirebound: Oh, how adored writing about little hobbits snuggled in blankets! Hehe. Yes, it's little things like this that help make this story bearable to write. :0)  
  
Loveofthering: Yesss! Those nasssty teacherses! They does it again! We hates them! They keeps us from writing they do! Hehe.  
  
Mint Sauce: I hope I'm doing okay writing Bilbo. I've never tried to write him before, and I do admit that I don't know him as well as I do the other hobbits.  
  
MLynnBloom: Yes, we both like loveofthering's story Samwise, don't we? (loveofthering, if you're reading this, we love you!) Looks like we have something in common! I love Sam to death! *huggles Sam* And yes the trailer was awesome. "I see in your eyes, the same fear that will take the heart of me . . ."  
  
Yahiko: Hehe. :0) Here's the rest! Sorry, I must have misplaced it. *wink*  
  
Lemondrop: *cheers with Lemondrop* Hurray for blankets and tea! Yay!  
  
Geez, this story is turning out a lot longer than anticipated. Can you believe that this was originally supposed to be three chapters? And I haven't even gotten to the crucial parts yet! *sigh* I guess this is the way it goes sometimes.  
  
Anyhoo, on with the story!  
  
******************************************************  
  
"Mr. Bilbo, it's my Momma." After forcing out these choked words, Sam drew in a ragged sob, putting his head in his hands to hide his forthcoming tears.  
  
Frodo stifled a gasp. "Sam! What happened? Is your mother hurt?" But now that the dam that had been so hastily erected was broken again, the tears could not be stopped, and Sam found himself unable to answer.  
  
Seeing Sam's distress, Bilbo held up a hand gesturing that Frodo should wait before saying any more. Obviously, the young lad was rather upset. Bilbo patted Sam's knee reassuringly. "It's alright Sam," He tried to say calmly, though he was truly very alarmed. Whatever happened must have been extreme to lead Sam to act this way. "Don't try to stop your crying. Just let it go. You can tell us when you're ready."  
  
Sam lifted his face up to meet Bilbo's gaze. "It's my Momma!" He cried out again, as if not realizing that he'd said it already. Frodo glanced nervously at Bilbo, not sure how to handle the situation. "She . . ." Sam broke off for a moment, "She's really really sick."  
  
Bilbo stiffened at this, and then forced himself to remain calm. Small children could sometimes exaggerated things. Frodo however, made no attempt to conceal any shock that he might feel.  
  
"Oh no, Sam!" He exclaimed. "That's terrible!" Leaning down, he enveloped his small friend in an embrace.  
  
Bilbo smiled at the small display of friendship, and then stopped to consider things. Sam could be blowing things way out of proportion. It had not quite left anyone's memory the time when he got it into his head that he had ruined the entire garden when he had stepped on a single flower while he was playing. It may very well be, that Bell Gamgee simply had a head cold, and Samwise could be afraid of something trivial.  
  
Then again . . .  
  
"Sam?" Bilbo said suddenly, directing his concerned voice to the young hobbit on the couch cocooned in blankets. "Will you be okay if Frodo and I step out for a moment?"  
  
Frodo looked up with a puzzled expression, but Sam nodded wordlessly.  
  
Beckoning for Frodo to follow, Bilbo left the room.  
  
As soon as he was sure that Sam could not hear them, Bilbo turned around to speak. "Frodo," he said straight out. "I'm not sure if Samwise is making a mountain out of a mole hill here, but . . ."  
  
"Uncle," Frodo interrupted, tilting his head. "I don't think that Sam would be this way unless it was something serious."  
  
"I know." Bilbo nodded. "He usually acts much older than his age, and this incident has really brought to my attention just how young he really is." Sighing, Bilbo continued. "I must say, that this has made me quite worried about Bell Gamgee."  
  
"Me too." Frodo agreed, his blue eyes opened wide, betraying his fear.  
  
"Listen to me Frodo." Bilbo explained quickly. "I am going to go down to Bagshot Row, just to check and make sure everything is all right. I want you to stay here with Sam." Frodo nodded, but Bilbo cut him off before he could speak. "Keep an eye on him. I believe he must have been in the rain for a very long time, probably long enough that there is a danger that he caught a chill. Keep him warm, and if you can get him to calm down and rest, all the better."  
  
"Yes, Uncle Bilbo."  
  
"You're a good lad." Bilbo smiled, before turning to walk to the door. He pulled his cloak off of the hook, and wrapped it around his shoulders.  
  
"Let us hope," Frodo said quietly, "that you will be able to bring back good news."  
  
Opening the large round door, Bilbo turned to face Frodo before departing. "We can only hope right now." He told Frodo encouragingly. "And keep Bell in your heart."  
  
"I will." Frodo declared firmly.  
  
Bilbo gave a quick goodbye, and then ventured out into the rain.  
  
The door closed.  
  
TBC 


	6. I Won't Pretend

Aw shucks. I haven't been updating this even close to as often as I would like to. *sigh* It's my schoolwork's fault. Don't blame me. Also, the muse for this story seems to like to work at a slow pace. Can't get ahead of the muse.  
  
Loveofthering: Yes! We all love Sam! *huggles Sam* I am crying for him too. I am glad you like how I am writing Bilbo. He is a tough character for me.  
  
MLynnBloom: Ah yes, school is very dominating indeed. Nasssty teacherses. *shakes angry fist* Oh, and I'm sure Sam would love your Chicken Noodle Soup! :0)  
  
MBradford: It's ok! You don't have to be sorry. *hugs* Oh, now you are getting ahead of yourself there! :0) I actually didn't plan for Sam to become sick as well. I just wanted to show what a close call it was. Hmm . . . well, maybe my muse may come up with something later on.  
  
Crimson-dawn123: Yay! New reviewer! *hugs* I'm glad you are enjoying the story!  
  
Lemondrop: You are so kind! :0) Yes of course, can't have comfort without blankets and tea, right? Hehe. You know, you should get a pen name for this site. I'll come read any hobbit stories you may write!  
  
Alright. I'm sorry if these first few chapters have progressed a bit slowly. It took longer to set the stage than I thought. After this one, it should start getting going. Probably because it will start getting to the parts that prompted me writing this story iun the first place!  
  
On with the story!  
  
******************************************************  
  
Frodo simply stood facing the door for a moment, although he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to gain out of it. For some reason, he felt that it would momentarily burst open to a smiling face. Maybe it would be Bilbo, informing both he and Sam that Bell Gamgee was perfectly fine, or even better, Mrs. Gamgee herself coming to collect her youngest son who had gotten upset over nothing. For a fleeting second, Frodo even half expected to see two loving faces long gone that he hadn't seen since childhood . . .  
  
He snapped out of reverie at a small voice.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Behind him, Frodo saw little Samwise watching him with wide eyes and clutching a blanket around himself.  
  
Frodo sighed. "Sam, you should still be back in the parlor. Aren't you cold out here?" The tiny hobbit shook his head no. "Alright Sam," Frodo told him softly. "Come along." He began walking down the passageway, before realizing that no one was following him. Sam was still standing rooted to the spot, staring at him blankly. "Come on Sam!" Said Frodo, holding out his hand and beckoning for Sam to come.  
  
"Where are we going?" Sam asked finally.  
  
Frodo tilted his head as if this was obvious. "I am going to take you back to a spare bedroom so you can get some rest."  
  
His eyes widening even further, Sam whispered in an almost frightened voice, "I can't go home?"  
  
Clearly puzzled by now, Frodo knelt down beside his little friend, making them roughly the same height so that they could look each other in the eye. "I thought you didn't want to go home."  
  
Sam's eyes filled with tears, though none fell. "You don't want me to go home." He whimpered. "Momma must really be sick." A single tear coursed down his cheek. "My Momma's going to die."  
  
Even though he had no idea what he had done wrong to scare the child so much, Frodo mentally kicked himself. 'I must not be very good at dealing with children,' he thought. Not knowing what else to do, he enveloped Sam in a hug.  
  
"Sam," he said gently. "I won't pretend to know whether your mother is okay or not." He embraced Sam even more firmly. "I will tell you that my Uncle Bilbo and I will do everything we can to help you and your family right now." He let go carefully, still keeping his hands on the lad's shoulders. "And right now, that means letting you get some sleep. It is very late, and most likely past your bedtime."  
  
Sam complied with a silent nod, reaching up with his hand to scrub away the tears. Wrapping the blanket more tightly around Sam, Frodo then led Sam back into one of Bag End's guest bedrooms. He tucked Sam into the bed, and started to leave the room, turning out the lights as he went.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
The frightened whisper caused him to turn around. "What's wrong Sam?"  
  
Glancing furtively from side to side, Sam then answered timidly. "It's really dark in here." His cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment. "Could you stay with me? Until I fall asleep that is?"  
  
Frodo smiled reassuringly. "Of course Sam."  
  
********************************************************  
  
So it was that Bilbo found them a while later. Sam was sound asleep (and snoring lightly), and Frodo was sitting beside the bed, tenderly brushing the lad's wayward golden curls back from his brow.  
  
Frodo, seeing Bilbo entering the room, stood quickly, his a face an anxious mask. "Uncle Bilbo!" He gasped softly. "You're back! Is. . . ?" He trailed off, seeing the solemn expression on his elderly relative's face.  
  
Bilbo shook his head sadly. "Mrs. Gamgee is very ill. Sam was not lying in the least."  
  
Not pacified yet, Frodo inquired again, wanting to know for sure, but dreading the answer he was going to get. "Will she . . . will she be all right?"  
  
Sighing, Bilbo realized that there was no way to sugarcoat this. "The malady has already reached her lungs, and she can hardly breathe. The doctor says that she will most likely not live through the night."  
  
Frodo stifled a grieved moan. "Oh . . . poor Sam . . ."  
  
The young hobbit slept through it all, completely unaware of the sorrow he would most likely wake up to. His features were smooth and carefree, for his mind wandered in the last pleasant dreams he would experience for a long while.  
  
TBC 


	7. Kite

Hello everyone! *gasp* I'm writing on a Sunday morning, instead of a Saturday! Hehe.  
  
After this week, I may be able to update a bit more, since most of my big projects will be out of the way. Well, I will unless the nasssty teacherses assign more projects. Blah.  
  
Shirebound: Hehe. I am glad I wasn't proud of that part for no reason! As soon as I had written it, I had to go dancing around the house. :0)  
  
Loveofthering: Hmm . . . you actually may not need your kleenex box . . . yet.  
  
MLynnBloom: I don't either! *huggles Sam*  
  
Gundam Pervy Arms: And such a little cutie he is! *huggles Sam again*  
  
Tavion: Yay! You came to review! *hugs* I am so glad you like it! And now I have one more way to beg for more of The Smell of Rain. *Gets down on knees and begs*  
  
Elfitchick: Sam is my very favorite too! *huggles Sam, yet again* I am very glad you like it! Yes, they are nasty teacherses. We hates them we does!  
  
Lemondrop: If there is a petition, I'll be the first to sign! *sobs* I still can't believe I am writing this. Ah well, this is a more lighthearted chapter. Probably the happiest in the story. So enjoy it while you can! And by the way, if you do get a pen name, please tell me straight away! :0)  
  
Okay okay. I know you are all tired of my ramblings. So I will shut up now.  
  
On with the story!  
  
*************************************************  
  
When Bilbo saw Frodo entering the kitchen the next morning with a pale face and dark circles under his eyes, he knew that his lad had not slept a wink. Bilbo himself had not slept much either. How could one, at a time like this?  
  
"Good morning, Frodo," He said softly, looking up from the meal he was preparing.  
  
Frodo mumbled something, but whether it was 'Good Morning' was anyone's guess. They were both so quiet, that the clinking of dishes seemed to ring extra loudly and echoed through the kitchen. Frodo slumped into a seat at the table, and breathed the aromas of breakfast in deeply. Letting out the breath in a tired sigh, he asked quietly, "Any word on . . .?" The question trailed off.  
  
Bilbo did not answer for a long time, leading Frodo to believe that maybe he should not have asked that question. But at last, Bilbo nodded barely, and whispered, "Where there's breath, there's hope."  
  
His brightening, Frodo jumped up from his seat. "You mean she's still alive?"  
  
Bilbo smiled tiredly, "Yes, Hamson brought the news here earlier this morning. Despite what the doctor said, she lived." His face turned serious again. "It still doesn't look good, but at least we know now that she is putting up a fight."  
  
"Oh," Frodo said looking down at his hands in his lap. "Er . . . what about Sam?"  
  
"I offered to allow Sam remain with us for a little while, at which Hamson looked relieved." Bilbo paused for a moment and then continued. "I know that Sam is a very sensitive lad, and being so worked up he would probably only get in the way. So it is best that he stay here. A sickroom is no place for a small lad."  
  
"So," Frodo processed this, "He is just going to stay here? The whole time?"  
  
"Well, unless his family sends for him, if Bell starts to get better, or . . ." His voice cracked bit, " . . . if he has to say goodbye."  
  
******************************************************  
  
"So, Sam," You are going to stay with us for a little while." Frodo's hand was held clasped by little Sam, as they both walked outside in the fresh clean air. It was a sunny day, although rather windy. But that was just perfect for what Frodo had planned. Bilbo had told him to take Sam out for the day, take him away from his troubles, and cheer him up a bit. That was exactly what Frodo aimed to do.  
  
"Great!" Sam exclaimed, so rejuvenated by the bright day that he almost forgot his sorrows. "We can play games together!"  
  
"Yes!" Frodo agreed, stopping in a large field. "And that's why I brought this!" He held out a large, strange looking device. Sam looked at it curiously. It was a large diamond shaped thing, attached to a very long string.  
  
"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" He asked, still puzzling over the object.  
  
Frodo smiled widely. "It's called a kite. It's something the Dwarves that Bilbo knows brought from Dale. It can fly through the sky!"  
  
Sam's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. "Show me Mr. Frodo!"  
  
"All right!" Frodo shouted, "Here we go!" Frodo held on the end of the long string, went running, and the kite flew up into the sky. Sam looked up in astonishment. It was like a bird, its wings outstretched, soaring through the heavens.  
  
"Wow!" Sam yelled to Frodo, who was started to run back. "That is amazing!" He pointed to the kite and started jumping up and down. "Do it again! Do it again!"  
  
Laughing, Frodo replied, "Why don't you give it a try?"  
  
Sam gasped. "You would let me play with one of your fancy toys?"  
  
"Of course, Sam."  
  
"Yippee!" Sam shouted in excitement, and Frodo handed him the string.  
  
Frodo grinned as he saw Sam go off running across the field, the kite in tow. Sam couldn't quite run fast enough to get it as high as Frodo did, but Sam acted as if he got the kite as high as the sun.  
  
The sun, that had peeked out from the rain clouds that day.  
  
TBC 


	8. Don't Give Up Hope

Hello everyone! I'm sorry it took so long to get this up, but . . . oh blah. You all are probably sick and tired of hearing my excuses. :0)  
  
Tavion: Thank you so much for the kind words! Ugh . . . English papers . . . I know what those are like . . .  
  
Loveofthering: I hoping Bell will recover too! *looks down sheepishly at hands in lap*  
  
MLynnBloom: Oh, I loved the 'fancy toys' part too! I'm glad you're enjoying this!  
  
Fireblade K'Chona: Guess what? We are too! Hehe.  
  
Mint Sauce: Yes, Frodo is taking good care of little Samwise. Oh, and sorry I didn't get this in that one format thing you told me about. I uh . . . couldn't quite figure it out. Stupid computer. *hits computer*  
  
Shirebound: And what a sweet sweet friendship it is! Don't we all wish we could have hobbit friends? No wait! We do! *huggles the hobbits*  
  
Lemondrop: Yeah, I was hoping I got the age difference right. I don't know the exact difference in age, so I kept worrying that I was messing something up. Thank you for alleviating my fears! You know, funny enough, I didn't even realize that parallel until after I wrote it. I had to keep it there though, cause it was just too perfect. :0)  
  
All right all right. (See Minty? Not alright, right? *wink*) I'll shut up now. On with the story!  
  
***************************************************  
  
The wind rippled through the grassy field, bringing with it a faint scent of mugginess and humidity. A few leaves were caught in the gust, getting thrown up into the air and twirling about randomly before slowly floating once more back down to the ground. In fact, the leaves movements were not unlike those of the kite that had just previously been navigating its own path through the air.  
  
Now the kite was lying at the base of a mighty oak tree. A few inches from it were two pairs of furry hobbit feet.  
  
"Did you see it?" Sam was chattering excitedly. "Did you Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo laughed, reaching out to ruffle the small lad's curly hair. "Aye, I did." Both of them were resting on the edge of the field, letting the lofty leaves of the tree shelter them from the heat of the sun's blaze. "That kite flies well doesn't it?"  
  
"Oh yes!" Sam exclaimed, "It was incredible! The kite went shoooom! And flew this way, and shooooom! It flew that way, and it went up this high!" Sam raised his hands above his head as far as he could get them.  
  
Chuckling, Frodo lifted one of the kites and began to examine it. "It is really amazing, getting something to fly."  
  
"Let's go again!" Sam leapt to his feet and clapped his hands excitedly. "We've rested long enough. I want to fly the kite again!"  
  
Getting up more slowly, Frodo looked breathed in the air and looked towards the distant blue sky, in which large billowing clouds could just be seen over the horizon.  
  
"I don't know, Sam," Frodo told his little friend a bit sadly, "it looks like there's a storm coming. We should probably get home."  
  
"Home?" Sam's cheerful demeanor drained quickly. He looked out where Frodo was staring and saw the approaching clouds.  
  
"Yes, Sam," Frodo nodded, upset that Sam would be disappointed because they could not go on having fun. "I know. I sure wish we could play with the kite some more, but it would not be safe to fly it outside during a storm and I'm not sure that one could fly it indoors." He chuckled at this last point, but his laughter faded away as he noticed that his attempt at humor went completely unnoticed by Sam. The small lad was staring straight ahead and his face was a bit pale.  
  
"You mean," Sam whispered shakily, "we have to go home?"  
  
"Well, yes," Frodo was surprised, and indeed, a bit alarmed at Sam's sudden troubled mood. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
Sam dropped his gaze to his feet and fidgeted a bit before finally mumbling, "I don't want to go home."  
  
Suddenly Frodo understood. He put an arm around his friend and hugged him close. "Your mother?"  
  
Sam nodded, but said nothing. There was a long silence. The wind blew again and hit the young hobbits straight in the face, causing them to squint against the oncoming gusts.  
  
"Come on Sam," Frodo took the small lad's hand and began to lead back toward the road.  
  
"No!" Sam shouted suddenly, yanking his hand away. "I won't go home!" He started backing away, shaking his head. "I never want to go home. I'll run away!"  
  
"Sam!" Frodo said firmly, taking hold of his shoulders and shaking them gently. "Would you really want to run away?"  
  
"Yes!" Sam yelled shrilly. Then his voice dropped. "No. . ."  
  
"Do you think your mother would want to know that you were planning to run away?" Frodo asked calmly. "Just when the doctor was saying that there might be hope?"  
  
At this, Sam broke down crying. He threw himself into the older lad's arms. "But," he gasped out between sobs, "I don't know what to do, Mr. Frodo! My momma is going to die!"  
  
"You don't know that yet," Frodo spoke in a soft voice. "You should never despair when there is still hope."  
  
"How?" Sam whispered brokenly. "You say I shouldn't give up hope, but I don't know how. I feel all broken inside, and I don't know what to do."  
  
"Here, just think of hope as a . . . a . . ." Frodo mentally groped around for a comparison that would make sense to the small lad. His eyes fell on the kite lying on the ground. "Think of hope as a kite!"  
  
"A kite?"  
  
"Yes!" Frodo exclaimed, proud of himself for thinking it up. "Hope is like a kite, forever flying ahead of you, and you are always running to keep up. It can be hard sometimes, but you must not stop trying." Frodo paused for a moment. "Do you understand Sam?"  
  
"Yes, I think so . . ." Sam trailed off.  
  
"Do you still not want to go home?"  
  
Sam shook his head. "No," he murmured. "If you're going back, Mr. Frodo, I'll come with you," He reached out and took the older lad's hand. After taking a few steps, he tugged on Frodo's arm to get his attention. "Thank you."  
  
TBC 


	9. Storm

Hello everyone! Sorry this took so long. Gah . . . this story is so hard to write. *sobs*  
  
MLynnBloom: Keep on kissing Sam's curly head. I'm sure he appreciates it. *Sam hugs MLynnBloom*  
  
Lemondrop: Yes, the rain clouds are closing in. And not just rain clouds - storm clouds. If that gives you any indication of what's coming. :(  
  
Fireblade K'Chona: *cries* I know! I feel the same way. *hugs Sam*  
  
Arwen Baggins: Yes, Frodo does have some good advice for Sam in this story. His caring for Sam comes in very useful in the quest when Sam returns the favor, doesn't it?  
  
Shirebound: Frodo is very wise isn't he? He always knows just what to say. *sigh* I wish he could be here to cheer me up when I'm sad. *huggles Frodo*  
  
Firniswin: Yes, I'll admit it. Trying to make people cry is indeed one of the purposes for this story. *hugs* :0)  
  
Michelle Frodo: Yay! Another Sam lover! *hugs* Here, have some chocolate cookies made by the Gamgee family! Here! *holds up plate of cookies* Sam lovers, come and get 'em! :0)  
  
Loveofthering: Yes, Sam is adorably sweet isn't he? *sigh* Well, is you're wanting to know how Bell's doing, I suppose you'll get a hint in this chapter. :(  
  
Oh, and by the way, I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, but I'm not sure how that will go. I'm not sure if I have the heart to write it. :(  
  
On with the story!  
  
**********************************************  
  
Quickly turning to glance back over his shoulder, Sam saw with trepidation the large black clouds reaching their fingers out over the sky. A gust of wind blew his unruly curls into his face. He reached up and tugged Frodo's jacket.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" He began hesitantly, nudging the older lad to look in the same direction.  
  
Frodo nodded, "Aye. I see it Sam," Gaping at the enormous storm cloud, he shook his head in dismay. "It looks to be a bad one, doesn't it?" They both shivered as a blow of chill air breathed ice into their bones.  
  
"Let's hurry up, Mr. Frodo." Sam pulled on the older lad's arm in an attempt to quicken their pace. Frodo was not in the least reluctant to comply with the boy's request.  
  
"I know, I'm coming," Frodo said, hastening to a jog so that Sam would not pull his arm off. "It would not be fun to get caught in any storm, let alone one like that."  
  
Suddenly, a flash of light bolted across the darkening sky, reflecting fear in the eyes of the two young hobbits. Sam yelped and clutched Frodo's hand desperately as a deep rumble shook the ground.  
  
"I don't like storms," Sam whimpered.  
  
"It's all right," Frodo soothed, pressing Sam's hand gently. "We'll be indoors safe and sound very soon." As if to contradict these words, another bolt of lightening pierced the clouds. Sam hid his face behind his arms as the thunder rumbled. As the roaring ceased, he lifted his face to look up, and felt a tiny droplet of water touch his cheek.  
  
"It's staring to rain."  
  
Frodo, noticing that Sam was beginning to shiver, took off his jacket and wrapped around his little friend. "There," he said making sure it was nice and snug. "That's better."  
  
"Oh, Mr. Frodo," Sam peered out through his wide brown eyes. "You didn't have to . . ."  
  
"No," Said Frodo, "but I wanted to. You are still getting over a cold, and I don't want you to get chilled."  
  
To that, Sam had nothing to sat, so he didn't reply for a long moment. Finally, he looked up at Frodo and asked softly, "Why does it always rain?"  
  
Frodo was puzzled. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Why?" Sam asked repeatedly. "Why does it always rain? I hate it when it rains." He wrapped his arms around himself tightly. "I hate it."  
  
"You do?" Frodo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But Sam," he implored, laying a hand on Sam, shoulder. "I thought you wanted to be a gardener like your Gaffer someday."  
  
"I do . . ." Sam mumbled, not quite sure what point Frodo was trying to make.  
  
"Then," Frodo explained softly, "you should know more than anyone else why the rain is good." Sam didn't reply, so Frodo continued. "The rain helps the flowers grow."  
  
"Yes," Sam murmured half-heartedly. "But too much drowns them."  
  
*************************************************  
  
Frodo and Sam hurried up the lane, nearly running to stay ahead of the storm. The lightening was flashing more frequently now, and the air was filled with the clapping of thunder.  
  
The two hobbits barely got inside of Bag End before the rain began to come down in buckets. Frodo took one look outside at the pouring rain, and then shut the door as quick as he could. "Well then," he sighed shaking the water from his dark curls. "I'm glad we're no longer out in that."  
  
Sam nodded, slowly taking off the now soaking wet jacket. As he went to hang it up on one of the coat hooks, he noticed another coat hanging there. "Frodo!" He near shouted. "Look! It's my brother's coat!"  
  
Before Frodo could answer, Sam took off at a run. He ran down the hallway, hearing quiet voices in the kitchen. He burst into the room, and saw Mr. Bilbo sitting at the table with a grim expression on his face. Across from him, sat Hamson Gamgee. Hamson's eyes were red and puffy, and it looked like he had been crying.  
  
Sam skidded to a stop, and the next few steps he took were tentative. "Ham," he whispered, "What's wrong?"  
  
Hamson took a deep breath before replying.  
  
"Sam, it's mother."  
  
TBC 


	10. Whispers and Silence

Sorry for the delay. I just . . . well . . . I needed a while to write this chapter.  
  
MLynnBloom: You just keep hugging Sam. I'm sure you'll both need it.  
  
Fireblade K'Chona: *cries also*  
  
Loveofthering: *hands loveofthering a box of kleenex* This was my extra box. I used the first one while writing this. :0(  
  
Michelle Frodo: Yes, the rain is really coming down. *Grabs umbrella* Aw shoot. Umbrellas don't work against symbolic rain! *Sobs*  
  
Lemondrop: Thanks for the encouragement, and I'm sure Michelle Frodo likes the welcome too. You know, you're reviews have been the cause for much of my motivation in this story. I remembered you advice about staying strong when I wrote this chapter. *hugs*  
  
As far as I can see right now, there will be one more chapter after this one, and then an epilogue. After that, I think I will be able to devote the bulk of my time in my new hobbit romance story, which, thankfully, is much more cheerful than this one.  
  
All right, I'm done with my author's note. Time at last, for this chapter. :0(  
  
*************************************************  
  
Whispers . . .  
  
That was what Sam heard in the chill breeze as he ran, following his brother Hamson down to Bagshot Row. The rain had not let up, and Sam wrapped the jacket more tightly around himself. He was still wearing Frodo's. However, even the jacket of his best friend could not keep out the wind; the icy breath was still felt. But that was not what bothered Sam.  
  
It was the whispers.  
  
Sam imagined that with every gust, he could hear whispers muttering faintly in his ears. And he couldn't get it out of his head that they were whispering about death.  
  
Death . . .  
  
No! Hamson had said that their mother was still alive! But he had also passed on what the doctor had told. She was still breathing . . . but wouldn't be for very much longer.  
  
That was why Hamson had gone to get Samwise.  
  
**************************************************  
  
The room was very dim, lit by two candles that cast eerie shadows on the walls as the doctor bustled about. At first glance it would appear that the doctor was the only one in the room. But there were two others. The Gaffer sat stone still beside the bed, and the only movement he made, was the gentle caressing of the pale hand he held.  
  
The moment Sam rushed into room, only one thought pierced his mind.  
  
That wasn't his mother.  
  
It couldn't be.  
  
Freshly fallen snow could not have been as white as the face of Bell Gamgee now. The thick brown hair that framed this now frail-seeming face was not tied up in the bun that it should have been, but instead was streaming out in matted tangles upon her pillow. Her exhaustion was clearly seen in the dark smudges beneath her closed eyes.  
  
It had been with terrible haste that Sam came here, but now he stepped forward hesitantly. With each dragged step of his feet, a single phrase repeated like a mantra inside his head. 'This isn't real, this isn't real . . .'  
  
But it was.  
  
And as he sat down beside the bed and looked across to the other side, he could see it in his Gaffer's grieved gaze. Neither said a word - none were needed. Timidly, he reached out and closed his tiny hand around his mother's. He could feel the fever burning under her skin.  
  
Bell's lips parted, and she let out a weary sigh. In a painfully slow motion, she turned her head to the side, but she still did not open her eyes. It seemed that just by the gentle touch on her hand, she knew that her youngest son had come.  
  
"Sam . . .?"  
  
His head snapped up at this quivering whisper. Hurriedly, he brought her limp hand up and kissed it. "I'm here Momma."  
  
As if reassured of his presence, she quieted for a moment. So quiet, that the doctor came over to check her pulse. When he was satisfied, the doctor nodded and then went back over to the table where he was preparing medicines.  
  
Sam was almost certain that his mother had fallen asleep, but her voice brought back his attention from the darkness to where it had fled.  
  
"So . . . brave . . ."  
  
The words were so quiet, the Sam wondered if he had imagined them. It turned out the Gaffer had heard them as well, and he patted his wife's arm, softly hushing her.  
  
But Bell ever so slightly shook her head, and her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to speak again. "My little son . . . so brave . . ."  
  
Tears began to stream out of Sam's eyes. "It's all right, Momma," He tried to talk bravely, but his voice came out as a whimper, "I'm here."  
  
"Don't . . . give up . . ." She was breathing in feeble gasps now, and she was trembling with fatigue. "Keep . . . going . . ."  
  
Behind him, Sam heard the doctor muttering something about delirium, but Sam had eyes and ears only for his mother, and the faint whisper of her failing breath. Suddenly, her eyes opened, and she looked right at Sam.  
  
Her eyes were clear, and Sam felt, as he looked into those brown depths the memories of every warm and loving moment he had shared with his mother. Sitting beside a warm fireplace together with a mug of hot tea in their hands after a fun day in the snow, her loving warmth as she pulled him into a hug when he was upset, the soft touch of her kiss on his forehead as she tucked him in and said goodnight . . .  
  
For only a fraction of a second did these thoughts race through his head. For it was not long before Bell's eyes fluttered shut, and she was thrown back in the realm of sleep.  
  
The flood could be held back no longer now.  
  
Sam lay his head down on the bed, and wept.  
  
*********************************************  
  
A couple hours later, Bell was still sleeping, her chest rising and falling erratically with her struggle to bring air into her lungs.  
  
Still no one had stirred, except for the fact that now the entire Gamgee family were standing or sitting around the bed. The children's faces were nearly expressionless, but for the tears on their cheeks.  
  
Suddenly, the doctor seemed to sense something that the family could not. He came over to the bed, and took hold of Bell's wrist. For a moment Sam wondered what was wrong, until he noticed with dismay that his mother's chest was no longer moving.  
  
A long and silent minute passed. The doctor shook his head sadly, laying Bell's arm down beside her on the bed. He gathered up his supplies, and left the Gamgees alone with their tears.  
  
TBC 


	11. After the Rain

Hello everyone! I'm really truly sorry for taking so long to update. (Heh. It's been even longer since I updates To Melt a Heart of Ice. *hides*)  
  
Shirebound: I'm sorry for leaving you in sadness! *sobs* I wish I didn't have to, but it's kind of required for the story. :0( No matter how much I wish it could, it can't be a bunch of hobbit parties. (I'll save that for another fic)  
  
MLynnBloom: *sobs* I know, I know! *sobs some more*  
  
ShireElf: I'm glad you're enjoying this ShireElf! *hugs*  
  
Loveofthering: The words definitely will echo. I knew when I wrote this, I wanted Sam's mother's last words to him to be very meaningful. I hope I succeeded! (Oh, I don't know if the muse loves me. It seems content in bashing my head with a baseball bat until I write.)  
  
Lemondrop: Yes, lots of hugs for Sam. Hopefully, if we all hug Sam, we can make him feel better. *hugs Sam* I'm glad you liked how I ended the chapter. It was difficult. I wanted to explain to the reader what had happened without actually saying straight out . . .that she . . . *breaks down sobbing*  
  
Fireblade K'Chona: *cries also* Come on, you can help us hug Sam and make him feel better. *more hugs for Sam*  
  
Tavion: Well . . . if want Sam to be happy, you're just going to have to let your imagination take you beyond this story. The happiest you see Sam here, was in the chapter "Kite." I'm sorry.  
  
Michelle Frodo: Well, the rain represents a lot of things. Sometimes, it does represent tears. Other times, it just symbolizes sad things happening (Such as Sam's mother dying). So, the title of this chapter, "After the Rain," is really talking about how Sam fells after his mother has passed away.  
  
Woah! Lots of rambling here, and still more to go! This is the last chapter before a short epilogue I hope to get up soon. Geez, I still cannot believe how far this story has gone! It was originally supposed to be three chapters (if you can believe it).  
  
I know this chapter is very very short. I am well aware of this. There is only a tiny bit of wrapping up to do, and it was not possible to combine this chapter and the epilogue.  
  
NOTE: I was looking at the website of my brother's band the other day, and I found these lyrics to a song a guy in the band wrote. It was just too perfect for this story, so with their permission, I borrowed it to use in this chapter. The lyrics and title of this chapter do not belong to me. They are the property of my brother's band.  
  
Wow. This is probably the longest author's note I've ever written. I will gladly shut up now. On to the story!  
  
*******************************************  
  
It's something you will never know  
  
Just how much you meant to me  
  
Look down deep inside yourself and you will see  
  
What is left after the rain.  
  
(Lyrics borrowed from the song After the Rain)  
  
*******************************************  
  
The sky was gray, the thick layer of dark clouds obscuring the view of the blue heavens. The storm had lessened its fury. Only in the distance could the strikes of lighting be seen jutting ragged paths across the horizon. Filled with the humidity that often comes after such a storm, the air was filled with a dense mist. The mist was all that was left from the downpour that had been falling only a few hours prior.  
  
The evidence of those downpours could be seen on the earth and on the roads all throughout Hobbiton. Large puddles were scattered across the ground, and even where no puddles were present, the ground squished under one's foot from all the moisture.  
  
There was one such puddle right outside a small Hobbit hole in the side of a large hill. Reflected in the clear water of the puddle could be seen the forlorn and weary face of a young Hobbit lad. The wet air made his golden curls hang over his face limply. They almost, but not quite, hid his sorrow-filled brown eyes.  
  
A single large raindrop (or was it a tear?) fell into the puddle, disturbing the calm surface into forming little ripples across the water. With a distracted thought, the young lad mused that the small ripples looked almost like miniatures of what he would imagine ocean waves to look like. But that was silly. Who was he to guess anything about the ocean?  
  
As the lad sat there, he heard the telltale sounds of feet on the wet ground. He didn't look up.  
  
"Sam?" The person behind him spoke quietly. The one small word was followed by silence. Wordlessly, Frodo sat down beside his little friend. For a long moment, they were both silent and avoided each other's gazes.  
  
Suddenly, Sam turned and threw himself at the older lad, burying his face into Frodo's shoulder and sobbing miserably. Frodo knew better than to try to offer any comforting words at this point. He simply held the small lad in a gentle hug and rubbed his back to help soothe the heavy sobs.  
  
At last, Sam raised his tear-streaked face to look at Frodo. His lower lip quivered as he tried to speak. "Mr. Frodo, I think my kite is broken."  
  
Fighting back tears of his own, Frodo held the boy closer. He could hardly bear to see him so distressed. Finally, Frodo leaned over and whispered softly into Sam's ear, "Then I'll help you build a new one."  
  
The clouds broke, and a single ray of sunshine beamed down through the thick mists to bathe the two hobbits in the morning light.  
  
TBC 


	12. Epilogue

There is no excuse for how long it took for me to write this. *hugs everyone* I'm sorry.  
  
Loveofthering: Of course I'm going to keep you crying! With this story anyway. :0)  
  
MLynnBloom: I'm glad you liked the song! :0) Here's the epilogue.  
  
Tavion: Yes, you have discovered my greatest joy in writing: imagery. The more descriptive the better, as I always say (well, I don't always say that, but you get the picture). :0)  
  
Lemondrop: *sigh of relief* I'm glad you thought that last chapter was okay. I was really nervous with this story because it required some really short chapters here and there. You don't know how relieved I am to know that it turned out okay! Oh, if we could all have a Sam! But if wishes were fishes, then Gollum would be very happy indeed. (I can't wait to see what had become of those plot bunnies! You be sure to tell me as soon as you get something up, okay?)  
  
Fireblade K'Chona: Yes yes, I know how you feel. *hugs*  
  
Lily C: Oh thank you very much for the kind words! *hugs* I'm very glad you're enjoying it! I wish I could say there will be a hobbit party in this story, but there's not. There will be one in the future in my new story, but that's all. :0)  
  
Shirebound: I'm glad you liked it! *hugs* And thank you very very much for that little correction there. And please tell me if you see anything else. I am completely open to anything that might make my writing better. :0)  
  
ShireElf: Yes he is a sweetheart isn't he? *hugs Sam* :0)  
  
Michelle Frodo: Thank you for your kind words! I'm sorry to say that the epilogue isn't exactly any more cheerful than the rest of the story. Couldn't spoil the mood, you know? But I hope you still like it.  
  
Aragorns-gurl33: Yay! A new reviewer! *hugs* O_O And one who writes long reviews too! Thank you very much! I'm very glad you like my stories! *hands Sam to aragorns-gurl33* You just keep on hugging him. I'm sure he needs it. :0) Namarie mellonin!  
  
NOTE: Again, this is quite a short chapter, and it's for the same reasons as what I wrote in the previous chapter.  
  
If you want to know where I'm going from here, I will now be devoting the bulk of my time to my new Merry/Estella story To Melt a Heart of Ice. I hope to see you there!  
  
Now, on to the last chapter!  
  
**************************************************  
  
The first of the stars to appear were tiny drops of golden light in the sky. With the night approaching by the sea, the only sounds were the calm laps of the waves. The sun, a lonely flame in a sky ever deepening into darker shades of blue, sank into the west.  
  
A lone hobbit stood on the shore, his large bare feet cushioned by the sand. He looked up at the brightest of the few stars that graced the sky.  
  
"A light when all other lights go out . . ." he whispered, and was suddenly struck with a stab of longing. But he was comforted in knowing that it would not last long. He would see his friend and master again soon.  
  
"Master Samwise?" An Elf in gray robes approached, his timeless eyes shining in the growing dark. "Are you prepared?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Sam replied softly, his gaze roving over to a large and graceful Elven ship, "I'll be there in a moment."  
  
The Elf bowed his head in acknowledgement before turning to go back to the ship.  
  
A gentle wind caressed Sam's cheeks. He never thought he could feel this old and tired. With a fleeting notion, he wondered if this was the way Elves felt, only many times worse over the thousands of years in which they lived.  
  
Perhaps what Sam felt had something to do with the ache in his heart for his wife, Rosie. Sam could feel the last lingering threads of warmth from the setting sun. Rosie used to love the sun.  
  
So many people who were dear to him had been taken away over the years.  
  
A sudden shrill call pierced the air. Sam lifted his head, and saw a gull flying over the sails of the Elven ship. He watched as it danced and soared through the air. It's wings spread and it caught the currents of the wind and flew with them just like a kite.  
  
With a sigh, Sam turned and walked to the ship.  
  
The End. 


End file.
